Raised by Keepers
by pixichi
Summary: He was a kid-no parents, no home. He ran messages, and picked pockets to keep his ribs from meeting his spine. Then one night, he came across a man-and a secret order, destined to change everything...
1. Chapter 1

The boy kept his eyes downcast as he followed the hooded man through the streets of The City. He didn't know where they were going, but if it meant he wouldn't have to starve to death, Garrett had to follow. This was his last chance. The youth kicked a pebble nervously as they walked. He glowered at the coin purse still fastened around the hooded man's waist.

It was so odd. He'd never had trouble before-not like this. The closest he'd come to being caught was several weeks prior. A young woman with bright blonde hair had been parading through the market with her suitor. Whilst the two were lost within each other, Garrett had taken a grab at her purse.

Being larger than the usual coin purses he was used to, the boy hadn't compensated for the extra weight. As such, she had felt it leave her person. She cried out and shrieked for the nearest guard, hollering that she'd been pickpocketed and sobbing while her beau searched the surrounding alleyways.

But the quick and agile street urchin had already fled into the darkness.

That had been close. But still, Garrett had never been caught. Until today.

He looked up at the man again when he stopped and turned around.

"We've arrived." He spoke in a deep, wisdom-filled voice.

Garrett squinted his eyes and blinked as he observed the large rounded building before them. The place was enormous! That's when the boy noticed that the building was lacking a most staple feature.

A door.

"Excuse me sir? This can't be right!" The youth protested.

Without responding, the hooded man began to trace the sides of the large stone wall. Garrett gasped in shock as thin blue lines began to corporealize against the dark grey bricks. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, and gawked up at the strange man once more.

Of course I couldn't pickpocket you! You're a taffing mage!

His astonishment was only multiplied tenfold when a rectangular portion of the wall gave way to reveal a deep, almost beckoning passage. The hooded man turned around and faced the gaping, hungry expression of the boy he had just rescued.

"Follow me, young Garrett. Your new life, is about to begin..."

************************************************  
 _Raised by Keepers_

The inside of the 'wall' was dark, the scent of smoke and trepidation cutting through its blackness like a scythe. Garrett remained huddled behind the robed man, unsure and ill at ease.

"Well now. About time you returned to the fold, Artemus." A scolding, bitter voice sounded from amidst the shadows. "What kept you THIS time?" First Keeper Xaiver sneered down from his podium like a ravenous hawk.

The boy was now riddled with droplets of sweat, his face contorted in fear. He wanted to run, but his legs had betrayed him. They were now as frozen as the horror locked within his eyes, the hooded man just mere feet from his frail form. Garrett now felt extremely foolish for having followed a complete stranger into this unknown place.

Garrett had heard of such men before; those who wore long dark robes, and thick hoods to conceal their face from the ever watchful eyes of The City's bluecoats. Before he'd wound up on the streets, his late father had cautioned him about such people. The boy could still remember the hot, unwavering sincerity within his old man's grey irises-intermingled with the cautionary intimidation that only a concerned parent could ever exhibit.

These ebony-clad hunters, would lure anyone who they could find into a state of irreversible , and unending tribulation. The horrid state of being dead, yet never finding the only reward that was associated with ones final breath. Peace.

The urchin was in short, terrified. He had no choice but to stand in that dark room, with the two hooded men; and hope that whatever they intended was good. Hands quivering, the lads hazel eyes scanned the seemingly exitless room, hoping, that perhaps there was some place to flee to, should their intentions be anything otherwise.

That's when his questionable escort spoke.

"I was met with the unexpected." Artemus then stepped aside, exposing Garrett to the First Keeper.  
"Oh gods no..." Xaiver's eyes narrowed in disgust at the sight of the boy.  
"He shows promise. Have I ever been the sort to waste your time?" Artemus persuaded.  
"This isn't a question of your reliability, Artemus! You cannot bring home a child to us like he's a lost puppy! What will his parents think?!" The man's voice rose, betraying a very real aggravation. "This is not what we're here for."  
"The boy is an orphan."

The moment those words had been uttered, there was nothing but silence. The air in the vicinity grew thick with uncertainty, and the boys heart began to pound ever faster within his chest.

At long last, First Keeper Xaiver began to speak again, his decision reached.

"Very well. As a Keeper, you do have the right to take on a novice. If you truly wish to take responsibility for this waif, so be it. But he is to be your charge, Artemus. If he steps out of line, it will be on your head!" The imposing man threatened.

Artemus, bowed his head, accepting the First Keeper's decision.

"So let it be."

He then turned to Garrett, and smiled. By this point, the boy was spastic, petrified. Seriously pondering whether or not he'd merely traded one bad situation for another. But that sudden smile upon Artemus's worn face, perplexed him. It wasn't creepy, nor malicious. It was a genuine, very kind, smile.

"You shall begin his training immediately. If the lad wants to eat, wants the comfort of a warm bed, he must prove this 'promise' that you speak so surely of." Keeper Xaiver instructed, his tone level and cold. "We are not a charity, Artemus. We are Keepers. And as such, we cannot allow ourselves to be swayed by such mindless pity."  
"Yes, I understand." Artemus bowed his head in acceptance.

Garrett found he could no longer tear his gaze from the intimidating First Keeper. There was something almost empty about him. As if his mind had given over to a higher power of some sort. There wasn't a hint of sympathy emanating from his intense glare.

It was then that Garrett realized; even if he had been taken in by these strange people, his new life wasn't about to be an easy one.


	2. Chapter 2

"I've told you before Garrett, you cannot rush this." Artemus tapped his thumbs together through intertwined fingers. "Getting somewhere quickly will not help you achieve balance, nor improve your skills."  
"Yeah, but it'll help me get done faster!" The youth quipped, his hazel eyes betraying his frustration.

Keeper Artemus inhaled a deep, cleansing breath, then stepped forward. The boy stared up at him as he approached, his backside still firmly planted against the blue metal tiles. He hadn't moved since Artemus had called him out, reprimanding the boy in his solemn, yet imposing voice. Garrett had tried to coast through this portion of his training. As with the last room, he figured so long as he kept to the shadows, his mentor wouldn't sense his approach. He was wrong, a fact which the lad had learned the second his foot met with a loud clack upon the tiled portion of the training room. In his surprise, the boy had lost his balance and fallen to the floor.

"Garrett. Get up."

Reluctantly, the boy did as he was bade. He knew he had to. Artemus had not taken him off the streets just for the sake of it. He'd only been at the Keeper compound a mere four hours, yet already Garrett knew this. He also realized, if he wanted to stay here for good, he was going to have to work for it. Garrett was by no means, a lazy child. He'd been 'working' for nearly two years now; doing whatever favors and errands he could for the few unsavory street folk who were willing to rely on a kid to do their dirty work. When the boy couldn't find one such shady character, Garrett had relied on other means of filling his belly. Namely, stealing whatever he could get his grubby little fingers on.

He suspected, much like the street thugs, that this was the skill which had gained his savior's attention. He was greatly mistaken.

Artemus stopped in front of him, watching as the boy broke eye contact, and instead began to shuffle his feet nervously.

"The last room was no problem for you. What happened?"

Garrett said nothing. Rather, his stomach spoke for him. Artemus grinned slightly at the low rumbling noises, and the dusky red illuminating his new ward's face.

"You're hungry." The Keeper commented, nonchalantly.

Garrett slowly met his gaze. For a moment, there was a pitiful pleading within the lad's expression, his eyes glassy and wide. But for whatever reason, he quickly struggled to hide it.

"Yeah, I told you that back in the alleyway." Garrett snorted, folding his arms and staring at nothing. Artemus began to frown.  
"There's really no need for that sort of attitude, child."

Again, the boy refused to answer him. The Keeper sighed. Truth be told, Artemus saw no harm in giving the lad at least a snack beforehand. After all, children had a tendency to perform poorly on an empty stomach, and his new charge hadn't eaten in days. This would also easily explain his upstart behavior-or at least, that was what the man thought at the time.

Artemus looked up at seemingly nothing but darkness, the star-shaped window carved high overhead casting down only the faintest glimmers of sunlight. Though Garrett had no clue, _he_ did. They weren't alone in this training session, or rather, this test. The Highest ranked members of the Keeper Council, were all watching this. Listening to it. This was the true reason why Artemus was refusing to feed the boy until after-First Keeper Xaiver himself, had ordered it so.

Artemus sighed, massaging his temples. He was already taking a risk as it was.

"Listen, young Garrett. You heard what First Keeper Xaiver said. To earn your place with us, you must first prove to him that you have talent. You must complete these exercises before you can eat."  
"This sucks..." The boy muttered under his breath, his stomach protesting as well. "Can't you just tell him I passed?" Garrett looked up at the Keeper with seemingly innocent eyes.

It was the look most children would use, to manipulate toys or cookies out of their parents. But it wasn't working on Artemus, for two very good reasons. First of all, he was far to disciplined to be so easily manipulated. And more importantly, Garrett was terrible at it. It wasn't very convincing at all, when a street-hardened and mischievous waif such as he, tried to make puppy-dog eyes.

"No, I will not lie for you. And no, your training will not be easy. But trust me child-nothing worthwhile in life ever is."  
"Tell that to the nobles..." The boy snorted, betraying his true nature within a matter of seconds.

Artemus actually smiled at that. Even if his words were short and filled with distain, the lad did have a very clever tongue. He wondered if this cleverness extended past sarcasm; did this child also possess a gifted mind? Those answers would have to wait until after he had been officially approved and recorded by the Keeper Council-when Garrett would be allowed to join the other novices in study. An approval which Garrett would never receive, if he failed this simple test.

As Artemus stood alongside his new pupil, a sudden surge of creativity came to him. Aside from adherence to the Keeper restrictions and codes, those who chose to foster a novice were free to decide upon which tactics and methods they would use whilst training their students. Even though he was not yet the boy's official master, during their initiation test, Keeper higher-ups were still allowed to prompt and instruct their students accordingly. And thus, on that seemingly ordinary afternoon in late spring, Keeper Artemus, decided on a rather informal method of teaching for his.

A personal one.

"Garrett. May I ask you a question?" He began.  
"Why?" The youngster asked, scoffing slightly at the end.

The Keeper answered him with a blank stare. He was going to have to take that as a 'no'. However, Artemus asked the question regardless.

"How did you get so close to me in the alley?" Garrett was visibly surprised by the nature of this question.

A mischievous smirk found his face, and the boy uncrossed his arms.

"Well it's simple, innit? I snuck up on you! Wasn't very hard; you had your back turned."

Artemus took notice of his relaxed posture, and nodded. It seemed the child enjoyed talking about his abilities.

"You say you snuck up on me, correct? But isn't that what you just tried to do?"  
"Yeah, but..." the boy grew flustered and defensive again, "but the ground wasn't noisy like it is here!"  
"Indeed. This room is composed of both carpeting and tile, unlike The City streets. My question to you, is which makes the least amount of noise?"  
"The...carpet?" Garrett guessed, pretty sure that he was right; given the mistake he had just made. Artemus nodded slowly.  
"Indeed, you are correct. When it comes to stealth, situational awareness is the key. Different types of terrain, varied foliage, sloping rooftops, inner floors of structures; all of these variables must be embraced, so that silence can be maintained. Be always aware of your surroundings, young Garrett, as well as how much noise your own footsteps are making. So, let us start from the beginning of this training room again. Use the knowledge you have just gained to complete this portion of your test."

The boy was obviously disgruntled, but he marched back to the start of the room as instructed. Artemus returned to his spot opposite the mess of carpeting and tiles, and turned around.

"Begin!"

Determination glimmered in Garrett's eyes, as he took his first step. It landed with a soft _**'tuff'**_ upon the yellow carpeting, which the lad found exceptionally gaudy. _Not even the maddest of nobles would have that in their home_ , the boy smirked. He raised his neck slightly and examined Artemus. He seemed so far away, though the room couldn't have been larger than a few meters.

Another deep breath, another unsure step. Garrett began to move more carefully as he traversed the room, the promise of a good meal now the only thought within his tired mind. The boy remained adamant about only treading on carpet, and began to anticipate how much noise each step was going to cause. Eventually, Garrett reached the bottom of the stone steps where his mentor was waiting for him. Artemus extended his hand to the boy, helping him up the stairs. Garrett warily allowed this, though it seemed pointless. There were only eleven steps, after all.

"Much better, child. Much better." The Keeper nodded. "Please, follow me."


	3. Chapter 3

Garrett followed the hooded man down a series of winding hallways, until they reached a thick metal gate. Artemus unlocked it, and they started through. The first thing the boy took notice of, was that he was once again outside. Though, the area was but a small courtyard, and Garrett still had no idea how to get in or out of this place. The second thing he noticed, was the long gleaming sword and wooden bow resting on a nearby table.

"Let us next test your mettle, young Garrett." The Keeper stated, motioning a hand out to the weapons.

The lad gave him a curious, albeit excited look.

"You're giving me a sword then, eh? Seems an odd choice for a kid."  
"The edges have been blunted, so I have no reason not to." Artemus replied. "Besides, these are not gifts; they are the tools you will be using for your next three tests."  
"Three?!" The boy harped, emotionally exhausted and psychologically still locked in a very surreal state.

His stomach growled again, prompting Aretmus to frown.

"Three more lessons, and then you may eat." He promised. That got Garrett's attention.  
"Fine." He grumbled, picking up the sword and bow.

There was also a light brown quiver beside it, and the boy struggled to get the thing strapped across his back.

"I will assume you have never fired a bow before, correct?" Artemus asked, as they descended the worn stone steps. Garrett crooked an eyebrow.  
"No, do most kids?"  
"Indeed."

The Keeper frowned again, beginning to note that his new student would also need to be trained from his sharp tongue, and blatant disrespect of his elders. That behavior was commonly unencouraged for most children, but it was downright forbidden amongst Keeper novices. And the man had a disturbing suspicion, that this sort of attitude was going to become more and more commonplace in the bold lad, the older he grew.

"Then I suppose, I should teach you."

Keeper Artemus, was no skilled bowman himself. But he was extremely knowledgeable on the subject, given the fact that he was well-read, as well as a visual learner to some degree. He'd observed many a Keeper and novice dynamic on these grounds, in preparation for the day when he too would grow old and wise enough to desire his own student. He was pushing into his late thirties by this point, although most Keepers took on novices far earlier. Some, as young as twenty-five, though this was rare, seeing as most Keepers never rose past acolyte status until they turned thirty. Only advanced Keepers were permitted to mentor new novices.

"Now, the first step is to create consistency of form. Ultimately, you want to train your body to recreate the same motion every time you shoot." Artemus began. "To begin learning, stand with your feet about a shoulder's width apart with your non-dominant leg slightly forward."  
"Non-dormiant?" Garrett looked up at his mentor, unsure what that meant.  
"Do you write with your left or right hand, Garrett?" The Keeper asked.

Instantly, the boy grew flushed and hung his head.

"I...don't know how to write sir. Or read, for that matter." Artemus gave him a concerned nod.

The boy was illiterate. He should have expected it, given the situation from which he was taken.

"I see. We'll have to teach you how to read and write then, but I'll save that lesson for another day." The Keeper issued in a gentle, non-accusatory tone. He couldn't help but notice as the boy rolled his eyes at the mention of _more_ schooling. "To rephrase the question, which hand do you pickpocket with?"

A look of mischief replaced the lad's embarrassment.

"My left, sir." He replied.  
"Very good. Stand in the position I mentioned prior, but with your _right_ leg slightly forward."

Garrett gave a brisk nod, and did as he was instructed.

'''Kay! When do I shoot somethin'?"  
"Take out your bow, and grip it with your right hand. When the proper grip is obtained, the wrist, arm, and finger should all be in alignment. This positioning might feel odd at first, but if you start shooting this way regularly, it will get more comfortable with time."

Artemus watched his charge fumble with the bow for several minutes, quietly sputtering sharp curses in the process. _Yet another bad habit to wean him from._ He thought. Eventually, the lad had a somewhat steady grip on the thing.

"Very good. Once you have gotten the grip down, you will not need to keep your pointer finger extended, and can wrap it around the bow handle. It only needs to be re-extended if you feel the need to check your grip, and make sure everything is still in alignment."  
"Uh-huh. When do I shoot?" Garrett asked again. Patience, was apparently also going to be an issue.  
"Once you achieve the proper grip, you can set an arrow. The arrow should be rested on the same side of the bow as the back of your hand."

The bow wobbled considerably, as the lad reached behind him and into his quiver. Fumbling with the blunted arrow, he followed his teachers instructions as best he could.

"Like this?" Garrett asked, hopeful.

He would have looked over at Artemus, had he not been thoroughly convinced that the bow would wobble again if he took his eyes off of it.

"Very good. The string may then be gripped with your left hand. Proper string grip is important to learning how to shoot a bow accurately, young Garrett," Artemus continued, watching his pupil with careful eyes, "Generally, the first three fingers are used to grip the string. Most archers shoot with their pointer finger gripping the string above the arrow, and the middle and ring fingers below. Once you are ready to shoot, aim at one of the targets, and let your arrow fly."

Garrett positioned the arrow and raised his bow. He narrowed his eyes at his chosen target, which was the one closest to him. The lad believed that he deserved an easy break. After all, he had already gone through two tests on an empty stomach, and he still had two more after this one. He took a second to steady his aim, then fired. But to his frustration, the shot went wide, embedding itself within the wooden wall instead.

"Hmm. Have another go." Artemus grunted.

Garrett reached for another arrow, and raised his bow again, muttering a string of silent curses as he did so. Again, he took aim, and again he missed the target. This continued, for the next fifteen attempts, with Garrett growing progressively more aggravated.

"Try once more." Artemus pressed.

The youngster, visibly spent and irritated, dropped his bow to the grass in defiance.

"No." he huffed, crossing his arms. His mentor blinked.  
"What did you say?" He asked.  
"I'm not doing this anymore. I always miss!"  
"Failure is part of learning, Garrett. Without it, we wouldn't have the motivation to improve."  
"Well I didn't follow you here so I could improve, old man! I was doing just fine on my own!" Garrett snapped.

Artemus was stunned. That had certainly escalated quickly.

"I want out!" The lad demanded, starting back up the stairway. "I'll take my chances on the street. At least there, no one expects anything of me!"

To his annoyance, the boy discovered the gate was locked. A sudden, firm hand found his shoulder. Garrett looked up to meet the tawny eyes of his mentor.

"You're not leaving, young man. That would be the greatest mistake of your life." The boy pushed the hand from his shoulder with mild fury.  
"Yeah, I'll bet!" He groused, defiantly.

Artemus remained solemn in his intent; strangely collected for a peace-loving man who now had to deal with the upstart recklessness of a young boy.

"Garrett. I chose to help you, because I saw promise in you. I rescued you from certain death today; don't you know this?"  
"Well, I didn't ask to be rescued!" Garrett hollered, not entirely aware of what he was saying anymore.

He watched as hurt disappointment became prominent in the older man's features.

"So, you would have preferred I left you to end up a bloated corpse floating in the harbor?"  
"Right now, it's looking more preferable, yeah."

Artemus exhaled a low, heated breath through his nostrils. Perhaps the First Keeper had been right after all. Perhaps his judgement in the boy had been terribly misplaced out of pity.

"You are hasty, and unrealistic Garrett. The City, shall not be kind to you, and you will never be assured a meal or safety there. You would be foolish to return."

The boy was watching him now, taking in a silent truth that he stubbornly refused to accept outright.

"As I told you before, your life here will not be one of luxury or ease. But if I recall correctly, you are in no position to refuse such a generous offer."  
"You call THIS, generous?!" Garrett retorted. Artemus chose to ignore that. Picking up the discarded bow, he thrust it back into the boy's unwelcoming hands.  
"Try again."

With a nasty scowl, the lad hung his head and stomped back over to the practice field. He drew back the bow and placed another arrow between the appropriate fingers. His lanky arms began to ache under the weight of the bow and the drawback. Gritting his teeth, Garrett stabilized his aim as best he could, and fired at the forefront target once more. The arrow shot forward and impaled itself into the outermost ring of the bulls eye. Garrett felt the inevitable pang of disappointment attack his stomach, yet his mentor nodded approvingly.

"Excellent," Artemus praised, "See what you are capable of when you apply yourself?"  
"I didn't hit the center though..." Garrett mumbled. His teacher smiled warmly.

"You do not run before you can walk. In time, and with practice, you will be able to hit the center of the target with ease. But for now, remember that every hint of progress is a victory. Now, see if you can hit the target again."

Garrett nodded, a new determination filling his eyes. Ignoring his hunger pains, he fired again. When the arrow lodged itself in the same area, he groaned in defeat.

"Do not be disheartened, child! You've hit the same spot on the target twice in a row!" The Keeper encouraged.

*************************************************

Hours passed, and the midday sun began to wane into the glorious golden hues of twilight. Garrett carried on firing until his fingers throbbed. Most of his shots missed and embedded themselves into the wooden wall, but the few that hit always filled the boy with a triumphant drive.

"That's enough for today," Artemus finally broke the shroud of silence from the courtyard. "You've made excellent progress, Garrett. You will make a fine archer one day, but only if you're determined to become one."

Garrett put down his bow and quiver and stomped away from his teacher, ignoring those motivational words. Artemus cracked a bemused grin at the sight of the huffy lad stomping his way across the grass before plopping down with a grunt upon the stairs.

"So what's next? You gonna make me spar until I keel over with exhaustion?" The boy quipped, his chin planted firmly within his aching hands.

Artemus shook his head, watching as the last of the sun's rays dissipated into tranquil evening.

"Let us save that, until tomorrow. You have done well today, Garrett. But night has come quickly, it would seem. So we will have to finish the rest of your test, come dawn."  
"Dawn?!" Garrett whined.  
"Yes, that is correct."  
"Greeeaaatt..." The boy rolled his eyes.

His stomach then sounded again, louder and more unforgiving this time. Garrett's posture slumped forward, the cramping pains stealing away the last of his strength. It would seem he'd have to wait until tomorrow for that much-needed meal.

Then, Artemus did the unexpected. Reaching into his cloak, the Keeper retrieved a succulent apple, and a small drinking flask.

"Here," he nodded approvingly, "you've earned this." Garrett took the food offerings with a hesitant stare.  
"I thought you said I couldn't eat until after all my tests were completed."  
"This is far from a meal, child. Furthermore, these is not rations from the Keeper Compound. They is a gift from me."

An air of genuine surprise lit up across the orphan boy's face. A gift? No one had ever given him a gift before-not since before his parents died.

"T-thank you." Garrett stuttered, still at a loss for what to say.

The boy hungrily devoured the scarce meal, watching as Artemus took a seat beside him on the stairway. While he waited for his pupil to finish, the Keeper gazed up into the cloudy night, taking notice as the first of thousands of stars made their debut.

 _I wonder-what manner of journey will this be?_


	4. Chapter 4

After several hours of instruction and demonstration, Artemus finally allowed Garrett to retrieve his training sword from the courtyard table. The child found sparring difficult at first; after all, this was his first time running around with anything heavier than a coin purse in tow. Even a lightweight training blade was heavy, and extremely off-putting for him.

Garrett was used to fighting others with his fists, when the need arose-not a taffing _weapon_!

For the first half of this training session, the boy was awkward and highly agitated. It didn't help that Artemus had roused the lad from his bed an hour before dawn to properly wash and dress. Garrett had been filthy when he'd found him the day before after all-the stench coming off the child's tattered rags so pungent, that the Keeper was certain he must have fallen into the sewer at some point.

But Artemus was immensely encouraging, and eventually, Garrett had satisfactorily calmed himself and reluctantly committed to this next segment of his training.  
That had been hours ago. Now, it was nearly noon.

"Good work, young Garrett," Artemus praised in a solemn tone. "Now, let's get you in the ring with a live opponent."

The dark-eyed boy jerked upright, staring at his new mentor as though the man were truly insane.

" _What_?! You want me to _fight_ someone with this thing?!" The lad's mouth was gaping open in disbelief by this point.  
"Of course, you aren't trying to actually _kill_ one another." Artemus reminded with a gracious chuckle. "This is merely a test of your abilities, Garrett." Bear that in mind, when you meet Clarissa."  
"Clarissa?"

Before the boy had time to fully register his profound disbelief with the situation at hand, a voice called out from behind him.  
"Keeper Artemus? We are ready to assist in the matter of which you spoke of last night."  
"Ah, Keeper Remon," Artemus greeted with a solemn nod, "we have been expecting you."

Intrigued, Garrett spun around and practically bumped headlong into a girl about his age. Her hair was strawberry blonde, and there were tiny freckles decorating the bridge of her nose.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Garrett hollered, his instincts from life on the streets still defensive, and heavily weighted towards survival. The girl blinked, before the slightest inkling of a smirk began to form upon her face.

"You're the one who ran into _me_." She laughed, causing Garrett to pull back in surprise.

She was right, after all, and somewhere deep down, the arrogant child knew that. Flustered, he looked up to see Artemus and Remon staring down at him, as if he were a pup who'd just soiled all over the new rug. Garrett felt as his face began to redden in embarrassment at their accusing stares.

"So, this is the boy you told me about last night?" Remon inquired, his eyes narrowing.  
"Yes, this is Garrett." Keeper Artemus confirmed, clapping his palm firmly around the lad's shoulder.

Garrett stiffed, his posture straighter than it had probably ever been, due to the simple act of surprise. The girl in front of him, suddenly began giggling again, although Garrett was unsure just what she found so hilarious this time.

"Hmmm. Well, far be it from me to judge the lad's abilities without first seeing how he performs," Keeper Remon eyed his own student. Her stance was one of determination, and an eagerness to please her mentor. "But are you certain that he can keep up with my Clarissa?"

"We shall soon discover the answer." Artemus's grey eyes narrowed.

A strange gentleness began to fill him. A sensation that was previously unfelt by the Keeper, and he welcomed it's warmness. He'd only been this boy's mentor for half a day, yet, already there was an unmistakable urge to teach and better this youth. To press him further, to mold the discarded orphan like soft clay. Why this was, he couldn't recognize; but he had a convincing theory.

Artemus had heard the stories-of the so-called bonds that were often forged between Keeper and apprentice. Connections that imbued the nurturing love of parenthood with the pride and persistence of any teacher. Such bonds were shunned and ill-spoken of within the compound-if they were spoken of at all.  
After all, such a deep-rooted entanglement with anyone-be they Keeper or no-was a sign of imbalance; which often led to lapses in judgement or peril. However, there was no denying that this connection did occur. And perhaps, it was even somewhat unavoidable.

Artemus began to wonder if perhaps instructing Garrett would also offer it's fair share of instruction for himself as well. Years from now, the Keeper would laugh at just how much of an horrendous understatement this truly was.

"On your word, Artemus." Keeper Remon urged.  
"Yes. Garrett, are you ready to begin your next test?"  
"Ready as I'll ever be..." The boy scoffed, shuffling his feet. He could see Clarissa staring at him out the corner of his eye-and she was still smiling. Her cheerful and downright teasing demeanor was starting to irk him.

The two youths faced each other in the center of the arena. Remon retrieved an extra sword from the table, and handed it off to his charge. She took the blade with an eager, yet concentrated grasp. Her steel-grey eyes never left the ragamuffin street brat before her.

In that instant, something within her had changed. The taunting smirk of a playful schoolgirl, was now replaced by a disciplined, and downright menacing confrontation. And Garrett, survival-hardened orphan that he was, found himself just the slightest bit intimidated.

Sensing his unease, Artemus offered reassurance.

"Remember what I taught you this morning, and you should have no trouble with her, Garrett."  
"Clarissa. Do not allow the boy to overtake you with ease, but keep in mind that this is still a test. Temper your abilities accordingly." Keeper Remon instructed his own apprentice.  
"Yes, Keeper." The girl responded, though she was still glaring at Garrett.  
"Begin!"

A surge of unrest flooded through him, as Garrett heard Artemus declare the start of the test. Before he had time to react, Clarissa rammed him with the flat end of her blade, sending him crashing to the cobblestone.

"Ha! Is that all you've got?" She jeered.  
"Clarissa!" Keeper Remon snapped, reminding the girl of the strict manners expected of all novices. She lowered her head with a shameful sigh, the triumph of her blow diminished by her mentor's stinging prompt.

"Yes Keeper..." The girl muttered, crestfallen.  
"Garrett, on your feet!" Artemus demanded, though his tone was far more level and instructive than Remon's.

The boy did as he was told, brushing some grass from his tawny trousers in the process.

"You need to concentrate, young Garrett. Do not allow her to overwhelm you."

Garrett leered over his shoulder at his aging mentor. With a girl like Clarissa, that was easier said than done.

Against his will, the blade in his hand began to tremble ever so slightly. His opponent came at him again, but this time, Garrett was ready for her dirty tricks. The boy gulped down his nerves and tried to face his opponent with determination.

 **CLLLLLIIINNKK!**

Their blunted blades met with a brilliant flicker of silver. Garrett grunted against the girl's unexpected strength, as Clarissa continued to knock him backwards again. Their eyes clashed in a manner similar to their weapons, neither child giving an inch. Suddenly, a newfound zest enraptured Garrett. This was his meal ticket! If he failed even one of these sage's precious test, he'd end up right back on the cold streets. The waif's eyes burned with fervor as he glared into those of his opponent, their blades still interlocked.

Who was she, to take that away from him?

Using the inch or two in height that he had on her as leverage, Garrett began to press down against her weapon. Clarissa gasped and pressed back, holding the swords hilt tightly. Garrett's hazel eyes gleamed with fortitude as he continued to press down against her blade as hard as his frail arms would allow.

After several exhausting minutes, Clarissa's arm gave way, and her sword scuttled across the courtyard gravel. Flabbergasted, she looked back at the boy, who was now panting with utmost exhaustion upon winning.

 _It's over...I did it...I beat that dot-nosed girl..._ Garrett panted.

"That's enough. You did very well, Garrett." Artemus praised, impressed by the way his charge had strategically used his height advantage to win the duel.

"Clarissa..." Keeper Remon approached the girl, a look of fulfillment upon his wrinkled face. "You did quite well today. Let us return to the dormitories."

"Thank you, Keeper." She managed in a low voice, obviously ashamed to have lost to a neophyte like Garrett. Keeper Remon glanced over at Artemus, and gave his old friend a small, but warm smile.

"It seems I was correct to have withheld my judgement towards your new ward, Artemus. Truth be told, he is a very capable child."

Keeper Artemus said nothing, choosing instead to return Remon's rare smile with one of his own.

He thought so too.

Artemus watched as Garrett steadied the blade in his hand, inevitably taking notice of the teasing smirk he gave Clarissa as she exited the courtyard with her mentor. The girl briskly stuck out her tongue at him, making sure that Remon wasn't looking.

Indeed, he was a very capable child. However, this was still going to be a difficult task.

***********************************************

Tucked away in the midday shadows of the courtyard, two Keepers continued their strict critique of Artemus and his new charge. One was a woman around thirty, with long hair so blonde, that it was nearly white. The other, was a bearded man older by about half a decade or so. Through sips of bitter tea and orange scones, the twosome conversed between themselves. The subject? Dear Artemus-a man patient and wise beyond his years-and the headstrong brat he had taken under his wing.

"So that's the child Artemus chose to mentor? Ten years of waiting, and that's the best he could find?" Keeper Orland chirped, carefully blowing on his tea.  
"Or perhaps, Artemus simply enjoys a challenge." Keeper Isolde countered.  
"If that's the case, I'd say he'll be well tested."  
"The boy has been within our midst for less than a week, Orland. That is far too soon for such assumptions. Besides, he defeated Remon's girl. That, is not an easy feat."  
"The boy is quick-tempered and unruly. I doubt he'll last even a month before running away," Orland intercepted with a snort, "I sincerely hope that it does not come to that, however. I would prefer that First Keeper Xaiver deny him outright. That street urchin, is NOT Keeper material."  
"Well, I suppose we shall just have to wait and see what happens." Isolde concluded, still watching the dark-haired boy and his mentor.

She had no desire to argue, preferring to sip her tea, and watch as the mid-day sun waned over the horizon.


End file.
